‘Pottery? And why the sulphur, I wonder?’ Eadulf mused.
Fidelma had picked up some branches of an evergreen from a workbench and peered at it curiously.
‘It looks as if someone has been extracting the resin from this. What do you make of it, Eadulf?’
He shook his head. ‘This is beyond me,’ he admitted. ‘And – look!’
Near the potter’s wheel, standing along the wall, was a line of newly made pots. Except on closer inspection they were not pots at all. They were round balls the size of a man’s head. There was neither hole nor means of ingress into them. Eadulf bent down to pick one up and found that it was not very heavy. The balls were obviously hollow, but there was a strange imbalance to the one he was holding. He raised it and jerked it from side to side.
‘It is hollow but I think there is liquid inside,’ he announced.
‘Break one open and let us see,’ advised Fidelma. ‘Whoever is mixing strange potions here, I wonder why he keeps it so secret.’
Eadulf raised the ball in both hands, ready to smash it on the ground.
‘Stop!’ cried a sharp voice. ‘Stay absolutely still, if you value your lives!’
Chapter Thirteen
The young apothecary, Heraclius, stood in the doorway. There was an expression akin to horror on his face.
Eadulf froze, the clay ball in his hands, staring at him in wonder. There was no doubting the intensity of fear in the young man’s tone.
‘What…?’ began Eadulf.
‘Put it down on the floor and do it gently!’ ordered Heraclius.
Eadulf slowly replaced the ball on the ground.
‘Now step away from it,’ instructed the young man, still tense.
As Eadulf did so, the young man exhaled in relief and seemed to relax his body. It lasted no more than a moment before a look of anger crossed his features.
‘How dare you break into this hut!’
‘We did not break in,’ Fidelma corrected him pedantically. ‘You will see that we opened the door and entered.’
‘Having stolen the key from my dispensary,’ Heraclius replied, not misled by semantics. ‘This is my personal domain and no one comes here but me.’
‘You seem to have something to hide,’ she replied, looking towards the clay balls.
‘Only from prying eyes and idiots,’ came the uncompromising response. ‘You are not idiots so you must be spies. Spies of the Koulm ar Maro! Now you will come out – but make no attempt to escape. There are guards within call. We will go to see the lady Trifina.’
Fidelma exchanged a glance with Eadulf and then shrugged. They had no other choice.
They left the hut. Heraclius drew the door shut and turned the key in the lock. Making sure it was secure, he held the key firmly in his hand and motioned them back through the walled herb garden, then through the cooking area of the villa and into the main corridor, halting finally outside the room where Trifina had first received Fidelma. Heraclius addressed the warrior who stood on guard outside and the man knocked on the door. Heraclius disappeared inside.
The guard fixed them with a watchful glare, with his hand resting ready on his sword hilt.
‘What now?’ muttered Eadulf.
‘Now we will have to see what Trifina has to say,’ shrugged Fidelma. ‘There is no other course.’
In fact, it was only moments before the door opened and the young apothecary motioned them inside.
Trifina stood in front of the fire with a frown of annoyance on her face. She said something to Heraclius who gave a short bow towards her and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Trifina went to a table and poured red wine into a glass. She gazed at it thoughtfully for a moment and then held it out towards Fidelma with a look of interrogation. Fidelma shook her head. Eadulf, when it was offered to him, moved forward and took the glass. His thought was that someone who offers you wine is not going to kill you – at least, not immediately. Trifina poured another glass for herself and sat down, indicating with her free hand the chairs before her. Fidelma sank into the seat while Eadulf, feeling like a naughty child summoned before its parent, nervously seated himself.
‘So,’ Trifina said at last, shaking her head sadly, ‘what am I to do with you?’
‘It is not for me to advise you, lady,’ replied Fidelma softly.
Trifina actually chuckled. ‘Indeed not. Yet you are wandering round my villa, prying into things. I thought I made it clear that you are in territory that does not concern you.’
Fidelma decided to be blunt.
‘That depends what those things are. I told you that Riwanon asked me to investigate the mystery…’
‘The mystery of Abbot Maelcar’s death – which happened in Brilhag. Why are you really here?’
‘The location where a murder is committed does not imply that the murderer is to be found on the same spot,’ responded Fidelma.
‘That may be true,’ agreed Trifina, her voice tight. ‘I presume that you suspect me of somehow engineering the Abbot’s fate, even though I was not at Brilhag when he was killed?’
‘I do not accuse you. I simply do not like mysteries.’
‘Did you expect to find a solution in the workshop of Heraclius, perhaps? Heraclius is our apothecary and he has full permission to pursue his experiments in pursuit of his understanding of herbs and medicines.’
‘Earlier this afternoon I was seeking Fidelma,’ Eadulf interrupted, feeling he should justify himself. ‘By chance I happened to stroll through the walled garden and out to where this stone building is. I went quite innocently to examine it when I was knocked unconscious. Heraclius was nearby when I came to. I determined that Fidelma and I should investigate further.’
Trifina smiled cynically at him.
‘You are a truly loyal soul, Eadulf. This lady was nearly responsible for causing your death a few hours ago. Yet you rise from your sickbed to go sleuthing for her. And now you are claiming that Heraclius knocked you on the head, to…what? To stop you seeing into his workshop? Couldn’t he have asked you simply to leave?’
Eadulf thrust out his chin aggressively.
‘I hadn’t even seen inside it then. I was near it when I heard a shout and, looking below, I saw Iarnbud in a boat. That was when I was knocked on the head. Yet I am told you claim Iarnbud was not on this island.’
At the name of Iarnbud, Trifina set down her wine glass.
‘You saw Iarnbud?’ she demanded. A flush had come to her face.
‘He was alone in the sailboat that Fidelma and I followed from Brilhag. However, there was no sign of Iuna in it.’
Fidelma’s mouth tightened, and the line of Caesar as he crossed the Rubicon came into her mind. Alea iacta est. Truly, the die is cast. So she added: ‘I too saw Iarnbud – in this villa. Do you still deny he and Iuna are here?’
Trifina sat back and regarded them both with a long scrutiny.
‘I see.’ The words were spoken almost as a whisper. ‘So, Eadulf, you saw Iarnbud and, a moment later, you say that you were knocked out?’
‘As I said, Heraclius was standing near me when I came to. I presumed that he had knocked me out rather than let me see what was in the hut. That’s why I went back there with Fidelma.’
‘Did Heraclius admit that he did so?’ Trifina asked mildly.
‘Would he admit it if he had done so?’ Eadulf countered.
‘As I have pointed out, if he wanted to prevent you, all he had to do was tell you not to go there. After all, the door was locked, wasn’t it?’
Eadulf flushed, for it was almost word for word what Fidelma had remarked. He did not reply.
‘Surely a locked door should have been enough to tell you that your attentions were not wanted there? The place is Heraclius’ workshop where some of his mixtures might be dangerous if touched without supervision.’
‘What of Iarnbud?’ demanded Eadulf.
‘Iarnbud,’ repeated Trifina. There was a silence for a while before she spoke
again, turning to Fidelma. ‘You seem to take this commission seriously, Fidelma – the one from Riwanon to find Abbot Maelcar’s assassin.’
‘I take all commissions seriously. I am a dálaigh…’ Fidelma searched for the right Latin word. ‘I am a jurisconsultus, a lawyer. This is my job.’
‘As I remarked before, I find it hard to accept that Riwanon would give such a task to a foreigner who does not speak our language or know our laws. But,’ Trifina held up her hand as Fidelma was about to speak, ‘I accept your word that this is what has been done. You seem also to believe that Abbot Maelcar’s assassin is connected with the attack on your ship.’
‘I do. And who or what is the Koulm an Maro – and why would Heraclius conclude we are spies of whoever it is?’
There was another pause.
‘I am going to be honest with you, Fidelma of Hibernia,’ Trifina said slowly, after she had taken a sip or two of wine. Then she glanced at Eadulf. ‘Honest with you both, that is.’
They waited patiently.
‘I admit that Iarnbud was here, but deny that Iuna came with him. I was aware that about two weeks ago, a ship flying the emblem of our family, the flag of the mac’htiern of Brilhag, started to conduct raids around this coast. Each raid became more audacious than the last. Those who saw this ship not only reported that it flew the flag bearing the white dove emblem, but that on its prow it had carved in wood the figure of a dove.’
‘That was the ship that attacked the Barnacle Goose,’ Eadulf confirmed.
‘Let me state clearly to you both, this ship is not under the authority of my father nor of any member of my family. If you believe that we are involved with this sea raider, then you are mistaken.’
Fidelma looked deeply into the eyes of Trifina and was impressed with the frankness she saw there.
‘Then why is there all this mystery?’ she asked. ‘Why do you behave as if you have something to hide?’
Trifina made a small cutting motion with her hand.
‘Whoever is behind these attacks is using our emblem purposely to bring discredit upon my family. There can be no other explanation. Some of the merchants and farmers who have suffered losses from these pirates are already stirring the countryside against us, poisoning the people’s minds against us.’
‘And what have you done to counter these stories?’ Eadulf asked.
‘It was not until yesterday that I heard about the details of the attack on your ship – that a prince of your country was murdered and that you had escaped. I then heard of the slaughter of Biscam and his men and I realised that things were becoming serious. There had been no significant casualties until this time. But, for the last few days, we have been trying to track down this ship that we have named Koulm ar Maro, the Dove of Death. Our flag with the dove symbolises peace, but this dove brings only death and destruction. The more attacks it makes bearing our family’s emblem, the more people suspect we are responsible.’
‘And for what reason do you think the raiders are trying to impugn your family in this manner?’ asked Fidelma. She suddenly realised that the name was close to her own language: colm marbh – the dove of death.
‘So that we may be dispossessed of our lands and titles. There can be no other reason.’
‘So the flag is deliberately flown or planted to mislead people. You used the term “we” when you mentioned that you have been trying to track down the raider. Who is “we”?’
‘Bleidbara and I. Last night we decided to fit out the Morvran…It is really my father’s ship, the name means the Cormorant, which was the warship that you saw. We have fitted her out to search the Morbihan, to find the sea raider.’
The cormorant, with its dark body and its yellow to orange bill, was exactly how the ship that Fidelma had seen a short while before had been painted.
‘And the lights we saw on the shore below Brilhag the other night?’ Eadulf asked.
‘We told you the truth about it. Bleidbara and I came to the conclusion that this Koulm ar Maro must be hiding in these waters.’
‘I see. Does your father approve of this?’
‘My father has been away from Brilhag for several weeks in Naoned. He has probably not heard the news of the activities of the Koulm ar Maro yet. When he returns, he will be made aware by the growing hostility of the people here, and we must have a solution because he will be in the company of King Alain – and the people will exhort Alain to punish us for these attacks for which we are not responsible.’
‘So it is only you, your brother and Bleidbara who know of this?’ Fidelma asked.
To her surprise, Trifina shook her head. ‘My brother Macliau does not know what Bleidbara and I are doing.’
‘Why is that?’ Fidelma asked sharply.
‘Because Macliau cares for little outside of his hunting, drinking and his pursuit of women.’ Trifina’s voice had a disapproving tone.
‘Argantken?’
‘She is his current dalliance,’ Trifina sniffed, making her disdain abundantly clear. ‘Argantken is the daughter of a local farmer called Barbatil. Macliau would not have dared to bring her to my father’s fortress had he been there.’
‘So your brother…?’
‘Is a silly wastrel, indulged by my father after the death of my mother.’ There was no vehemence in her tone. She stated her view as a simple fact. ‘If there is justice, he will not succeed my father as the mac’htiern.’
‘But you would be willing to put yourself forward to the office?’ Fidelma suggested.
‘In the old days, the women of our people could succeed if there were no suitable male of the family to do so. I am told in your country of Hibernia that this is still so. However, our people have become too Romanised. Five centuries of rule from Rome has all but destroyed our ancestral ways of life.’
Fidelma agreed that there was nothing to prevent women rising to such power among her people.
‘So who else of your household is in this secret? Iuna?’
Trifina shook her head quickly, saying, ‘Only Bleidbara and Iarnbud.’
‘Iarnbud? You trust him in this matter?’ Fidelma was surprised.
‘He has supported our house since before I was born. He has the freedom to sail the waters of the Morbihan and to scour the forests around here, and thus is able to report on any gathering of warriors who might be connected with these raids.’
‘So that was what he was doing on this island…coming to report to you. Then why did he bring Iuna with him?’
‘He did not mention her when I saw him. Nor was there any sight of Iuna in his boat when he arrived.’
‘You mentioned Iuna to him? I presume he is no longer here?’
‘He sailed off not long ago, and I did not mention your claim to him because I felt you were mistaken. There is no way he would have allowed Iuna to know our plans.’
‘Had he brought you any news?’
‘Only about the arrival of Riwanon and the death of Abbot Maelcar.’
‘And that is why you were not surprised when I gave you the news?’
Trifina nodded grudgingly. ‘You have sharp eyes, Fidelma. That was indeed why,’ she confirmed.
‘But so far as you know, Iuna was not with him?’
‘As I have said.’
‘Iuna may be on this island.’ Eadulf pointed out the obvious conclusion.
‘Impossible! I trust Iarnbud entirely. But as you are not convinced, I will ask my guards to make a search.’ Trifina called to the guard outside the door and when he entered, she issued the instructions.
‘It is still difficult to see a reason why this Koulm ar Maro – we may as well use the name for the person behind the raiders as well as the ship – should be so set on bringing your family into disrepute – and by such extreme means.’ Fidelma took up the theme that was worrying her once again.
‘If we knew that, we might know who is behind this,’ Trifina said simply.
‘Then let us consider why your family might have incurred the wrath o
f someone to this extent. The mac’htiern of Brilhag is an ancient noble family of this area, so I am told. In fact, your father’s ancestors were kings of this land not so long ago?’
‘The emphasis is on “were”,’ replied Trifina. ‘We are no threat to anyone now.’
‘Brother Metellus spoke about your family, but I have forgotten the details. Tell me the situation so that I can understand it better.’
‘This was once the kingdom of Bro-Erech, which used to be the largest of the kingdoms of this land of Armorica. That was the old Gaulish name, which meant “the land before the sea”. That has now been displaced. Now it is called “Little Britain” because of the many settlements from Britain in these last two centuries.’
‘That I have understood,’ Fidelma said.
‘There was Bro-Erech and then to the north of us was Domnonia and to the west was Bro-Gernev. There were smaller kingdoms such as Bro-Leon and also Pou Kaer, but these are no more; both were absorbed many years ago. So now there are three large kingdoms.’
Fidelma acknowledged that she was still following.
‘Domnonia, while not as large as Bro-Erech, became very influential and was bearing the brunt of attacks by the Franks and Saxons along the northern coast and eastern borders. Just before I was born, Domnonia was ruled by Judicael who defeated the Franks twice in great battles and even travelled to the court of the Frankish King Dagobert in Paris to conclude a treaty of peace. Judicael claimed to be King of all the Bretons. The scribes wrote that the terror of his name alone was sufficient to keep evil men from violence. Although he was said to be mighty and brave in battle, he eventually decided to follow the religious life and abdicated, retiring to an abbey in Brekilien.’
‘Very well. But how does this tie in with your family and Bro-Erech?’ Fidelma asked, slightly impatient.
‘At the time when Judicael ruled in Domnonia, my family ruled here in Bro-Erech. Just before I was born, my great-grandfather Canao, the third of his name to rule here, died. It was then that Judicael claimed the kingship. He maintained that Waroch, the greatest of our Kings, was also his own ancestor and that Waroch’s daughter, Trifina, after whom I take my name, was his own grandmother. There was a dispute and my grandfather, called Macliau, was defeated. Thus he and my father after him became only the lords of Brilhag.’
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